Generic Art Flick
by David S
Summary: After writing a twisted drama, I just had to write another random comedy. You won't find a more random story anywhere.


GENERIC ART FLICK 

By David "the beast" Solomon 

SC4000aol.com 

"What's this?" 

"A book." 

"What should I do with it?" 

"Eat it." 

"Eat it?" 

"Eat it." 

"Okay. Munch. Ew! This tastes like a book." 

"It is a book." 

"Oh. It's going to rain." 

Cloud and Tifa stood huddled in their basement watching reruns of "the idiot's guide to tricking purple elephants into playing golf with Tiger Wood's cousin-in-law." They were weeping and chanting prayers, in preparation for the inevitable apocalypse which had to happen sooner or later. I hope it's not later. Because then this whole story sucks. And it does. And sooooooooooooo... 

"Cloud?" 

"Yes, Tifa?" 

"When does it happen?" 

"When does what happen?" 

"It?" 

"That?" 

"What?" 

"Those!" 

"Who?" 

"That!" 

"WHAT?! When will the apocalypse happen?" Tifa gave a long hearty sigh as she coughed up a pill that contained the secret to happiness. She set it aside with your mom. 

And the brave boy Cloud answered, "My bladder probably should have exploded by now. I haven't gone to the bathroom in weeks." 

"You haven't drunk anything in weeks." 

"I'm not an alcoholic." 

"No, that's not what I meant..." 

"I'll even call AA to prove it! Where's the phone?" 

"But..." 

"WHERE IS THE PHONE?!?!?!?!?" 

"YOU DON'T NEED TO PROVE THAT YOU AREN'T AN ALCOHOLIC!!" 

"Oh, good. Because, I am." 

For the next one thousand years, Tifa hit Cloud with a 2 by 4 millimeter section of leaf. She would have hit him longer, but then the apocalypse happened. Cloud and Tifa were surrounded by molten ash, and John Tesh music albums. 

"Oh, Cloud. It happened." 

Cloud, changing the subject, asked, "How are we still in our twenties? We've been alive for over a thousand years!" 

And Tifa looked at him, and said the most memorable quote in the history of American Literature. 

"Cough." 

"What's this?" 

"Another book." 

"What should I do with it?" 

"What shouldn't you do with it?" 

"Um..." 

"Go on, answer the question." 

"But first, you must answer mine." 

"I asked second." 

"What?" 

A very young cloud cried rain. Cloud, on the other hand, chewed on a piece of plastic so he could throw up. Tifa, meanwhile, played the drums on a brick. They suddenly realized that they couldn't exist on this horrible planet, and died. All of a sudden, a cow died. And then the world exploded. And then Ross Perot became president. That's when God intervened, and struck him with a lightning bolt. But first, he resurrected the world. 

"Cloud! It was just a dream!" 

"What's it?" 

"It?" 

"That?" 

"What?" 

"Who?" 

"All you people can't you see can't you see how our love's affecting our reality..." 

And a one, and a two, and a one, two, three, four... 

Give me a break! 

Give me a break! 

Break me off a piece of that 

Piece of Slim Jim 

Go burn in hell 

Go burn in hell 

Hell me off a break of that 

Slim Jim Roy 

But first, let's reflect on the moment... 

"Oh, Cloud...bum bum bum...he's a man...bum bum bum...WITH SOME REALLY MESSED UP HAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

The end is the beginning is the end. 

And now, back to being normal. Sort of. Not. 

"That's awful!" Yuffie said, before she died. 

"What?" Cid said, before he died. 

"Who?" Joe Pesci said, before he died. 

But first, the fact remains that Cloud and Tifa were living in a world that had formerly been apocalypsized, but now was okay, because God had pity on them. Of course, nobody believed them, because what proof did they have? WHAT PROOF DID THEY HAVE?! HUH? PUNK? I'll kick your ass! 

"Why don't you believe me?" Cloud asked Barret. 

"Because you're an idiot," he responded. 

"Idiot? How could you cause me such deep, emotional, psychedelic, Cher's cool." 

And she is. Because she's 52 years old and it looks like she is dead. 

"After all," Barret said, "Cher's probably smarter than you." 

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? CAUSE Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll always love...um...what comes next?" 

"You," Barret responded. 

"No, Barret. You see, I asked you what word comes next in a song. Instead, you tell me what the next letter in the alphabet is before T." 

Barret just sort of stood there for a while. Finally, Cloud said, "You were right, by the way." 

"Thank you." 

"But you still didn't answer my question." 

"!!!!!!" 

And as we switch camera angle to a scene of fish mating, we enjoy overhearing the erratic anger streak of Barret being broadcasted over the radio. In our car. Barret killed Cloud. Then Cloud got up and did...did what? What did he do? WHAT THE HELL DID THAT PIECE OF !$#@#@#$#@$#@$#@$#@$!@*$*(@$^#@$%@^ do? I'll tell you what he did! He played Final Fantasy 6 for 40 straight hours before chucking the damn cartridge out of the window and watching it blow up in a heap of incredible smoke while listening to Marilyn Manson worship Satan, murder puppies, and knife himself in the chest. Oops. I said something violent. Gago now. 

Confused? You damn well should be, bitch. I'll take that mouth of yours, and I'll...uh...er...um...salad! It is salad! It goes good with...crutons! 

God suddenly realized that the world sucked, and blew it up again. The only survivor was Nanaki. 

"Do you hear the cries of the planet?" he asked himself. 

"No," his self responded. Then, he muttered a three million paragraphal scream, which resulted in the world reconnecting, and everything being turned back to normal. Now three people knew the apocalypse had happened. Only six more to go! Oh, boy! Let's have some fun! And a one, and a two, and a bris. 

Barret, who's hand was bloody from the enormous beatdown of Cloud, walked towards a trash can, where he promptly kicked it over. Problem? None. And so, this joyous story comes to a close...but first...the Academy Awards. 

"And the award for best actor goes to...Cloud Strife!" 

A man who can't play the trumpet plays the trumpet, as everybody leaves. Cloud, meanwhile, bursts into tears as he recites Shakespeare. He begins laughing when he gets to the line "Some wine, ho!" 

PS: That's a real line. Oh, no! You don't think I'd make up Shakespeare, would you? WOULD YOU?! HUH? YOU WANNA MAKE SOMETHING OF IT? OKAY! FINE! 3:00 PM, TOMORROW! 

Cloud having won the oscar, promptly threw it across the room to hit the guy who couldn't play the trumpet but was anyway. 

Meanwhile, at HQ... 

"And for my next experiment, class," Cid stated. "I will show you how to change something from a solid to a liquid. For my experiment, I show you Solid Snake." 

Solid Snake was mindlessly battering the glass protecting of the life sized blender. Cid turned on the blender. Several hours later, a strange liquid was in the blender. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I show you Liquid Snake!" 

"That's not Liquid Snake, you freak!" 

"It isn't? Well WHOP DEE DOO!" With that said, Cid took out his spear and began impaling his desk. All the kids ran out of the room as Cid suddenly realized that he couldn't teach science. In addition, he had never signed up for a science job. But that's okay. 'Cause it's Saturday. 

Who...s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-stole the cookie from the cookie jar? 

"Here." 

"What's this?" 

"Yet another book." 

"Why do you keep giving me books?" 

"Just eat it!" 

"No! I'm not going to eat the book." 

"Why not?" 

"Because that's disgusting! You don't eat books." 

"You don't?" 

"You don't." 

"But...all this time...that's all I've lived off of." 

"Tough beans." 

"Beans?" 

"Beans." 

STOP IT! STOP THIS AT ONCE! This fanfic is too silly. It must stop being silly. We need to restore some order. Come on, people! Single file! And a one, and a two, and a... 

Cloud stood in his house, as he waited for the apocalypse. And, with a hearty sigh, he muttered his last prayer. 

"God, I love you. But the fact is, my bladder should have exploded by now. Because..." 

No, no, no! Damn it! This fanfic must stop being silly! Or so help-*ring ring ring* oh. I'll get it. Hello? What? Uh, oh. Um, sorry folks, but I must leave. 

"Good ridance to bad rubbish!" Cloud said, as he spat out his stick of gum in a trash can. He was referring to the trash can. Not the guy. That's funny. But you're not laughing. WHY NOT?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! 

"Turn that laugh track off," Cloud said. 

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

"I SAID TURN THE DAMN LAUGH TRACK OFF!" Cloud threw his oscar at the laugh track, and it hit a runner. 

And now for a sexual implication: Jim. 

"Would you stop giving me books?" 

"No." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I want you to eat them." 

"Them?" 

"Them." 

Them. The word has many meanings. Perhaps that's what you named Cloud Billy Bob in your game of Final Fantasy 7. Perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps I'm stupid. PERHAPS I'M NOT, YOU...meannie. Screw Flanders. 

"I've noticed that these incoherent conversations are appearing more and more." 

"Eat the book." 

"No! I'm not going to eat the book!" 

"Why not?" 

"Because you don't eat books! I've said that about three thousand times already!" 

"Already?" 

"Already." 

Aeris woke up one day to figure out she was dead. Wait...no...that was before the celery race...but, after the...uh...er...aaaahhhh, twisted! That's what it is all! Twisted! Twisted! The hot spot! There's excitement going around, there's a party going down! Twisted! The hot spot! Wait...that's Twister...let me start over! No! Why won't you let me start over? Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flan ders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. Screw Flanders. 

"What the hell is this?" The representative of The New Yorker asked. 

"It's a fanfic, sir," Cloud responded. 

"This? A fanfic? You've got to be kidding me." 

"What's wrong with it?" 

"Well, you start off with two people talking about eating a book...and you don't explain who these people are. Who are they? Then, you seem to bring up the actual story, which seems to be about the apocalypse. But a 2 by 4 centimeter piece of leaf? And then, you go on about 50 random tangents before finally getting to the end, which has the words 'Screw Flanders' over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over!!!" Pooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. 

"Dear god...what is this?" The representative of shortstories.com asked. 

"It's a fanfic, sir," Cloud responded. 

"This? A fanfic? You've got to be kidding me." 

"What's wrong with it?" 

"Well, you start off with two people talking about eating a book...and you don't explain who these people are. Who are they? Then, you seem to bring up the actual story, which seems to be about the apocalypse. But a 2 by 4 centimeter piece of leaf? And then, you go on about 50 random tangents before finally getting to the end, which has the words 'Screw Flanders' over and over again! Then, to top it all off, you have a conversation just like this one about why The New Yorker won't accept your fanfic! And he says over and over and over over and over and over again! Aahhh! That sounded weird!" 

"But...I worked so hard on it." 

"Look, Cloud, I'm sorry that your fanfic sucks. But actually try to make sense out of it next time!" 

THE END 

No, it is not! 

Yes it is! 

No, it's not! 

Yes! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! 

No! 

Yes! 

No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! No! Yes! No! 

Whoa...freaky mookie! 


End file.
